


We will not be Ships in the Night

by Missjlh



Series: Iris Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Post-Trespasser, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missjlh/pseuds/Missjlh
Summary: Tea soon? Solas reaches out to Iris and they meet for tea. Iris expects a trap. This is the story of how Iris saves her heart
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Female Mage Lavellan & Solas
Series: Iris Lavellan [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708531
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

“Tea soon?” The message ends on an unexpected note. It’s been four years since he took her arm, and he has been silent until now. In her dreams he never says a word to her, preferring to stare sorrowfully as she whispers words of love and pleads for him to just talk to her already. He never does. 

She accepts the invitation, with the full knowledge that it may be a trap and her and her team prepare for his arrival. They won’t get the courtesy of a warning before he shows up. 

A few weeks go by. Iris busies herself at the library. Her and Dorian are getting close to a solution. They’ve calculated how much energy the Fade holds. She’s found the artifact they would need. Now it’s a matter of figuring out how much time is needed to gradually thin the veil without killing most of the people in Thedas. Well, that, and figuring out how to kill a bunch of angry, immortal tyrants. Iris doesn’t like to think about that part. 

He shows up, rather unexpectedly, with some tea she suspects he specifically sought out because he thought she would like it, and some sweets (because, obviously if Solas is forcing himself to drink tea he’ll do it while eating cake). They meet in private. She swallows the consternation of her team, and she refuses to allow them to spy on the meeting. Iris will not be what Solas expects her to be. 

Before they move to a private room Solas is stiff and formal. Her team exchanges confused looks. Evidently they expected a more physical reunion but they do not know her and Solas as a couple. Dorian looks unsurprised. Iris wonders if Dorian has ever seen her and Solas kiss. Maybe that one time in the Frostback Basin after defeating Gurd Harofsen? Yes, she definitely kissed him then.

Iris leads him to a small room where a table and two chairs are set up. Solas pulls out a bag of tea, a tea pot, two cups, plates and a small pound cake. Of course he brought all of his own supplies, Iris thinks. He wouldn’t risk eating or drinking off anything that might be drugged. 

Solas brews the tea, and remembers precisely how Iris takes hers. He places her tea and cake in front of her and she thanks him. She does not drink. She fears poison as much as Solas does and hates herself for it. She wants to trust him but can’t. Solas takes the first sip and grimaces, to show her he has not drugged or poisoned the tea. She sips, and smiles; he chose perfectly. 

They talk about trivial things at first; who has married, and stories from Iris’ childhood. Iris asks about Solas’ early years; he declines at first and then shares a story to placate her. It is a silly one, of a party in Elvhenan that lasted a decade and his bumbling attempts to woo a woman and his overindulgence in drink. She laughs. It is hard to imagine him as anything other than a sweet talking lover. He does not tell her that eventually he warmed the woman’s bed. It isn’t important. 

After awhile they get down to business. Iris tries to talk him down, without revealing her hand. Solas is obstinate. He came here as a courtesy; she knows it’s happening soon and this is his way of saying goodbye. She doesn’t want to say goodbye. She fails to change his mind and she refuses to give up the knowledge she’s found without his surrender. They’re at an impasse. 

She doesn’t want either of them to leave angry so she accepts that she won’t be changing his mind today. She moves toward him. Solas shies away but his resolve breaks. They kiss and Iris feels her heart bursting with joy and sorrow in equal measure. She refuses to cry. He holds her. She feels dampness on her shoulder and she rubs his back and murmurs soft words of love. He tells her he loves her too. She reaches for the clasp on his cloak and looks him in the eye. He nods. They undress each other and make love. They take comfort in one another’s body. 

He tells her he must leave. She takes his hand and squeezes it. They dress without speaking. She opens the door, they leave the room and she walks him to the exit. Her team is nearby. 

“Ah, finished defiling my sweet girl and now you’re making your exit, then?” Dorian says, staring pointedly at Solas. 

Iris cringes. Apparently they forgot to ward the room. 

“For what it is worth, Dorian, you are doing good work here in Tevinter. You should be proud.” Iris is impressed by how thoroughly Solas ignores Dorian’s comment. 

Solas turns to walk out the door. Iris stops him and hugs him one last time. She steals a kiss and tells him she loves him. She wants an audience because people must know that the Dread Wolf is loved. He tells her he loves her too and his voice cracks. He leaves. 

Without turning around, Iris speaks to the one person Solas could not see in the room. “Follow him”. 

She hears the quiet footsteps of their lead field agent who leaves in pursuit of her love. 

Iris will find where he is hiding and she will change his heart. Without another word, she walks away and when she is alone once more the sobs she has been holding in for hours escape her. This time, she remembers to ward the room.


	2. Solas’ Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas’ perspective on their meeting for tea and the trap he has planned.

She will follow him. He knows her and he knows she won’t be able to resist. He will allow her to enter his base because it’s the only way to save her. He will shield her by making her his prisoner and she will hate him but that does not matter because she will live. As the veil falls and the world changes and his heart stops he will die happy, because she will breathe when he does not. 

She makes him wait when he arrives. He stands in the lobby amongst her ragtag group of companions, and Dorian (always Dorian...). It is Dorian who tells him he must wait. 

“You know she must bathe and put on her lipstick; you were so dreadfully rude to come here unannounced,” Dorian tells him. 

Solas can only nod. He remembers when she let him see her without lipstick. He wonders if she has ever let her best friend see her unkempt. 

She enters the lobby. She is a vision with her red lips and white hair. Her hair remains short, which surprises him. He steels his reaction. She greets him and leads him to a small room. He brews her tea. He pours a splash of milk into her cup, and several spoonfuls of honey into his own. More honey than tea; the only way to make it palatable. He remembers when she teased him about how he prepares his tea. He sips it; terrible, even with the honey. She sips hers and smiles. Her smile is beautiful. 

Josephine has gotten married, she tells him. So has Cullen, apparently. She says this lightly, to make conversation. He wonders if she ever imagined marrying him. He imagines her in a purple dress holding his hand in front of an altar. He shakes his head, to banish the thought from his mind. Iris doesn’t seem to notice. 

He tells her a story of a party in Elvhenan. Of course he chose a story of how he spent the better part of a decade pursuing a woman he fancied. He hopes she doesn’t get the wrong idea. She’s the only one he loves. He hopes she knows that. She laughs in all of the right places and tells him she cannot imagine him being anything other than a sweet-talker. His heart warms at the compliment. 

Eventually talk turns to his plan. Iris hints she has a solution. 

“We don’t all need to die,” she pleads, but declines to say more. 

She’s right; she doesn’t need to die. She just needs to follow him and she will live. Solas refuses to surrender and Iris will not say more without a surrender. She sighs. She stands up and walks toward him. He forgot how short she is. He tries to move back but she is so close and he needs to feel her. She wraps her arm around him and he can rest his chin on her head. They kiss. He folds in on himself to make himself smaller so he can rest his head on her shoulder. She smells like flowers and vanilla. His heart betrays him and his eyes well up with tears. He wills them not to fall but when they do she holds him tighter and softly tells him how much she loves him. The words feel warm and are a balm to his aching soul. He fails to notice immediately that she is speaking to him in Elvhen. Later he will recognize the importance of this (How did she learn to speak it fluently? Why?). 

Her hand reaches for the clasp of his cloak. Why didn’t he remove it when he came in? Why must he always be running from her? She looks him in the eye. He nods. They make love for the first time in years and it is sweet and heartbreaking. He thinks of how they could have joined for years at a time in another world. He will give her that world. 

Eventually he must leave. His stomach sinks as he tears himself from her arm. Will this be the last time she holds him? 

He allows the others to see their love. Let them know that she is his greatest vulnerability. When he leaves, he makes no attempt to hide his steps. He needs her to follow. As he makes his way to the Eluvian, he turns. He does not see her. He does not feel her magical signature. Good; she’s gotten stealthier. That will serve her well in the world he creates. He unlocks the Eluvian and walks through it. He waits. She does not come. 

He miscalculated. He cannot save her now. His heart is heavy but his agents are nearby and he cannot be weak. The mission was a success he tells them. As he walks through the base he thinks he can hear footsteps but cannot see or sense anyone. It’s just wishful thinking. Iris is not here.


	3. Dorian’s Roommate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian has a roommate for the first time in his life.

"I need you to be in charge of our team," Iris tells him suddenly. Dorian is startled. 

"Why me?" Dorian asks. He's never been in charge of anything, let alone saving the world. 

"Because Solas knows me too well. I can't let him know what I'm up to. I'll set the course from the shadows and you will give the orders. His agents will watch you, but they will learn nothing we do not wish them to see." 

Dorian nods. "I suppose you'll need a place to stay here in Tevinter, then."

"You mean you're not going to invite me to live with you? I'm hurt, Dorian Pavus." She smiles a knowing smile. 

And that is how Dorian got a roommate. He's never lived with anyone other than his parents. He likes living with Iris. He thinks she's a good roommate, at least as far as he can tell. She's tidy, quiet, and has the courtesy to ward her room when she wants privacy. She never has guests over, so Dorian assumes she's alone when she wards the room. He wonders if she thinks of Solas when she takes pleasure from her own hand. Then he cringes at himself because she is a sister to him and he can't think about her doing that. 

***

She doesn't talk about him often. Once, several bottles of wine in, she softly admits to him that she found him terribly attractive when they were reunited after pursuing the Qunari through the Eluvians. 

"He wore gold armour, Dorian. His thighs were magnificent." She practically swoons.

Dorian questions the logic of finding a man willing to commit mass murder and destroy Thedas attractive, but then again, he's never thought much of her taste in men. I mean, he wore beige for the Maker's sake. Beige! Nobody looks good in beige. But she wants to talk about him, so he humours her. 

"So, was he a good shag, then?" Iris was never willing to answer this when he asked her during the Inquisition years. Quite selfish of her, really; he told her all about him and Bull. 

Iris smiles. "The best. I always wondered how a hermit apostate became such a proficient lover. I guess being ancient helps in the sex department..." She trails off. Her expression shifts, realizing what she just told him. The smile crumbles off her face. He sees the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. 

Fasta vass. He's upset her. This wasn't what he wanted. Dorian thinks quickly. 

"I saw him talking to his hart once. He thought he was alone. It was ridiculous; like he was talking to an infant. He was terribly fond of that creature, apparently...what was its name?" 

_"Athim."_

"Right. I couldn't understand a word he said, but there was something so utterly charming about hearing him talk like that. It's even funnier now. I mean, an ancient god baby-talking to his mount? It's absurd." 

Iris giggles. It is a wet sound. "He's not a god, though. Not really. He's just a mage, like you and I. He bleeds. He gets frightened and occasionally he loses his temper. He talks to his hart. He makes love. He gave his heart to me..." 

Dorian re-fills her glass. If he can't cheer her up, at least he can get her drunk. 

***

Iris is a terrible cook. No roommate can be perfect, he supposes. She almost burned the house down once. Drippings from the roast nug she'd been trying to cook fell onto the fire rune in the oven. Flames shot all over the kitchen. His prized marble counter tops were scorched. He lost his temper with her once the flames were extinguished. 

"You're an inferno mage, fire is supposed to be your thing! I can't have you burning down our house, on top of everything else!" he rails at her. Iris stands up straighter and looks him right in the eye. Evidently he's pissed her off. 

"I set enemies on fire, I don't cook them for dinner! If you want a cook, you should bloody hire one." She stands there, staring him down.

Dorian pulls the remains of a roast nug out of the oven. With enough wine it may be edible. Iris even cut up vegetables for them. He feels a stab of guilt at that. She's learned to do many things with her prosthetic arm, but chopping things is still difficult for her. He examines the blackened potatoes, carrots and celery; they're sliced unevenly and inexpertly, but she tried so hard. He gulps. 

"You're right. You don't need to cook for us, but thank you for trying." He scrapes the worst of the burned meat and vegetables away, and plates dinner for them. He opens his wine cupboard. There's a bottle of red and a bottle of white. White wine is her favourite. That bottle was a birthday gift from Maevaris. Might as well share it with Iris, he thinks. Dorian pulls it out, and chills it with a burst of ice. He pours two glasses and hands one to her. 

"To failed culinary endeavors." Dorian lifts his glass. Iris smiles, and raises hers too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Athim - Humility


	4. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris re-visits Redcliffe.

The scene is familiar to her. A dark dungeon, lit only by crystalline pillars of red. It is hot; unnaturally so, and the air feels wrong. Red lyrium. Iris has been here before; nightly for a long while, but it has been several months since her last visit.

She knows it is a dream. The demons can’t quite recreate Dorian’s mustache properly, and she’s missing her left arm at the moment, despite the fact that she still had it when this actually happened. 

“Well, best get this over this,” Iris mutters. She braces herself for what she is about to see. She’s tried to wake herself in the past, or shift her dream but it rarely works. No, she’s reliving this memory tonight, it appears.

She walks through the dungeon, and encounters Fiona. The demon masquerading as her mimics her Orlesian accent terribly. Iris would have laughed, had the scene not been so bleak. It is easy, for now, just to wander through the memory without emotion. But then she gets to the cell Solas is locked in. 

“You’re alive! We saw you die,” the demon pretending to be Solas says. They always get Solas just right. Fear and Despair understand this memory intimately, knowing how to best get a rise out of her. 

“If there is any hope, any way to save them, my life is yours,” Solas tells her firmly. Iris hates hearing him say this, knowing what happens next. 

She frees him. Iris studies the re-creation of her love; his eyes glow an unnatural red, he is pale and a horrific red haze emanates from him. Every time she visits this moment she forces herself to look at his fingers. Tiny shards of red lyrium are growing out of the nail beds. 

Iris retches. She never leaves the dungeon without vomiting. Her gut churns, and she feels the growing sense of dread and anxiety building in the pit of her stomach. The sour taste of bile fills her mouth, so she plucks a few elfroot leaves from the pouch at her waist and chews on them. 

They fight through Redcliffe Castle. Iris scavenges with desperation for healing potions, and hands them out to Solas and Bull. They refuse them. They always do. “It won’t help us, Boss,” Bull tells her. Her heart breaks and she looks at them; a silent plea in her eyes. She knows he is right, but maybe, just maybe, the enchanted draught of herbs will make them feel well, just for a few moments. She places one in Solas’ hand. He considers, nods in acknowledgement, tilts his head back and drinks. Iris sees no change in him, and knows it was simply to humour her and provide her with some comfort. A small gift from this version of him. 

He looks guilty. Iris now knows why. 

She doesn’t try to touch him this time. The first time, she tried to squeeze his hand. He pulled away, as if burned. “I cannot risk infecting you, Iris,” he told her softly. 

This scene has haunted her nightmares so frequently over the years that she’s memorized every beat of it; every expression that crosses Solas’ face. The grimace in pain after the rift in the courtyard, his wince as he takes the red lyrium shard off a corpse, how he breathes just a little too heavily after a fight against a group of guards. But the worst moment is when he walks off to his death. Bull, Leliana and Solas hold the hoard off without hesitation. Before they leave, Solas shares a pained look with Bull, and locks eyes with her. He looks as if he wishes to say something to her. He never does. His last thoughts are a mystery to her. 

He dies. Iris sees it; the door bursts open and he fires off one last spell before a Terror overtakes him and sends him flying, as if he were a ragdoll. As if he were worthless and not the man she loves so, so much. She loved him even then, without quite realizing it. 

Iris screams a primal scream. She readies herself to run to him; prepared to open every vein in her body in an attempt to force life back into him. She cannot cast a healing spell to save her life, but maybe, just maybe there is enough power in her blood to save him. Dorian grabs her hand. 

“If you move, we all die!” Iris stills. Once, she prayed to the Creators for success in this moment. Now she knows her prayers are meaningless. 

The landscape shifts. A meadow, blooming with crystal grace and purple irises. Her namesake. This isn’t Redcliffe. The sun shines, birds sing and the breeze feels cool on her skin. She looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dreamer. 

A wolf sits at the end of the meadow, looking forlorn. How much of her dream did he see? Iris smiles, and looks into his eyes. She chances a wave. The wolf does not respond, save to stand up. His tail rests between his hind legs. 

“Solas…” Iris says softly. The wolf fades from her view. 

He never lets her speak to him, but still, she tries every time. 

Iris wakes up. Her skin is slicked with sweat and the heat in the room is oppressive. There is no breeze, and her throat is dry. She casts a quick winter spell to try to cool things down a little bit. Bloody Tevinter. 

At one time, returning to that moment left her shaken for days, and she would find Solas and cling to him, resting her head on his chest, and allowing his heartbeat to remind her that he is alive. That she hasn’t failed him yet.

But now, it’s far from the worst thing she dreams. She dreams new deaths for him; ones at her own hand because she has failed to save him. He’s died a thousand different deaths in her nightmares. 

Redcliffe? She can handle Redcliffe. She stands up, and puts her robe on. She has a wolf to save.


	5. Finding the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris gets started on her quest to save Solas from himself.

Iris needs to learn about the Fade if she's going to save the world. She's well aware that her lover, turned rebel leader, turned destroyer of worlds has a head start of about 6,000 years so she really can't spend any more time moping on Dorian's couch. It's time to head out into Minrathous and open a few books. 

"The Magisterium's Library is the place to go for books and other resources, so I'd recommend starting there," Dorian says. He pauses. "You may not have been Inquisitor here, but we do get the news, and there are enough portraits of you floating about that you may be recognized. We can't be having that." 

"Void take her white hair," she thinks. 

"Have you ever considered pink lipstick instead of red?" 

"No." 

"...Not wearing lipstick?" Dorian winces as he says it, preparing for Iris' inevitable reaction. Iris fixes him with a hard stare. 

"So, the red lipstick stays then. How about a hat? And gloves, to make your prosthetic slightly less obvious." 

Iris sighs. "Make it a really nice hat, and I'll wear it, and I promise I will only complain a little bit." 

"I'll even buy you two." Dorian gets up, kisses her on the cheek, and prepares to leave the house. He returns home later that night with what he refers to as a "cloche hat" ("They're popular in Orlais!" he explains proudly), as well as a more traditional Tevene cowl. 

*** 

Iris pulls on a long skirt and slips a tunic over her head. She's grateful to Dorian for tracking down some clothing without extravagant ties or buckles, given her current condition. It's nice to be able to dress herself without hollering for Dorian's help. 

"I really miss my arm. It was a good arm," she mutters to herself. 

Footwraps are another matter. She hasn't learned how to tie them one-handed yet, and Dorian hasn't been able to find someone to commission modified versions of them yet. So she's stuck wearing shoes. Like a bloody human. She slips them on, and winces. They pinch and her feet are confined, and she's going to get blisters. She can't even wiggle her toes. 

"No complaining," she reminds herself. "Well, maybe a little bit of complaining." 

Iris heads downstairs. Dorian is at the table drinking a cup of tea. He pours a cup for her and slides it over to her. She accepts it gratefully and takes a sip. 

"Well, look who got dressed all by herself, this morning. You look splendid, my girl." 

"I'm wearing fucking shoes, Dorian." 

"And they look marvelous on you." Apparently Dorian is feeling charitable and ignoring her whining this morning. 

"I'm off to the library today. I was thinking...I can't go by Iris here. I need to be invisible. I need another name. What do you think of 'Rose'?" 

"It's as good a name as any. A pretty name for a pretty woman." He winks at her. 

Iris laughs. "Well, as long as your approve of it. I will be Rose, arcane assistant to Magister Pavus, and nobody will look at me twice. It will be refreshing. Best get to it, I suppose." She drains her cup, burning her tongue. 

Iris stands up to leave, and Dorian follows her. 

"Do be careful, Iris, and if anyone gives you trouble, throw my name about. We can't have anyone giving you a hard time." 

Iris notices that Dorian fails to clearly state the threat he's worried about. She's well aware of the danger she faces in Tevinter. She leaves, and thinks about the irony if she ends up in chains as she tries to save the Dread Wolf's heart. And then forcefully banishes the thought from her mind. She is Iris Lavellan and she is fire and she is fear and she is fierce. 

Only she isn't. Not right now. She is Rose, and she is small, and she is invisible, and she is worthless out in Minrathous.

***

Iris walks up the steps of the Magisterium's Library. It is an overwhelming building crafted of white marble, with a domed ceiling and bright windows. She pulls her hat tight over her ears, checks once again to make sure she still has her staff (of course she does; she doesn’t go anywhere here without it) and opens the door. The lobby is a wide open space with wooden benches against the wall. The room is near silent; the only thing Iris can hear are the sounds of pages turning and the occasional cough. She takes a deep breath and walks through the lobby. 

A man speaks in her direction in Tevene. She starts and looks at him. He is angry. Iris reminds herself that she is Rose and she is small, she is invisible and she is worthless. 

"Pardon, ser?" she responds, in Common. 

The man sighs in exasperation. He repeats himself in Common. "We do not allow _slaves_ in this building. Surely your master would have told you this? Filthy knife ears." He spits at her feet. 

Iris remembers the Winter Palace, where she endured the casual racism of the Orlesian nobility, but was able to hold her head high and triumph by the end of the night. She saved the monarchy, and ended the civil war and she made sure they knew it. 

But she's not that woman right now. She is Rose. 

"Well? Get out of here, elf." 

"My apologies, ser, but I am here on the orders of Magister..." 

"No exceptions. Leave." The man cuts her off, and points his finger towards the exit.

Iris supposes this cretin thinks her too stupid to find the exit on her own. She'll show him. She bows, turns around and leaves. Outside, her hand shakes and her breath is coming in short gasps. The knowledge she needs may be within those walls but forbidden to her because of her pointed ears. For the first time in her life, she feels the swell of shame. She is small, she is invisible and she is worthless because she is an elf and she is in Tevinter. 

She fails to notice the elf staring at her. He is handsome enough, with olive skin, and long, dark hair. He is dressed plainly, in a long grey tunic and black tights. She nods in acknowledgement. The man looks around quickly before walking towards her. 

"You did a foolish thing, girl. Everyone knows we aren't allowed in the library. You're not Tevene, are you?" His accent is thick. 

"I am not." Is this one of Solas's agents? Best to give away as little as possible. 

"You will be welcomed at the library on Miraculum." The man walks away, leaving Iris baffled. 

Is this a trap? There's a good chance it is, and she can just imagine Solas lecturing her about running headfirst into a potentially dangerous situation. But Solas isn't here and she needs access to at least one library here in the Imperium. She has no other option. Iris starts to navigate the winding streets of Minrathous, looking for this Miraculum street.

Miraculum is hidden away; more of an alley way than an actual street, and Iris trips over the cobbled streets. The street is in poor repair, the buildings dilapidated, and none of the them look much like a library at all. In one corner, she sees what looks like a body wrapped in a sheet. The stench wafting in the air makes her eyes water. Miraculum is the street of the desperate; where its inhabitants lack the ability to put their dead to the pyre properly. Iris feels a stab of pity for the poor soul in that sheet. There is nothing she can do, because she is not Iris; she is Rose. She has no influence, no power, and any display of her wealth would arouse suspicion.

She walks up and down the street with no success. She stares at a fruit vendor. They must know where this library is. The vendor is a middle-aged human woman, with a filthy apron, dirt on her face and an expression of great defeat. Selling fruit here must be a near impossible task. Iris approaches the vendor. 

"Pardon me, do you know where the library is?" 

The woman grunts, and points at a building a few doors down. The door is cracked, the windows coated with a thick layer of dust, and the shingles are peeling. It is far past its prime, if indeed it ever had a prime. But, still, Iris is grateful. She purchases a bag of apples from the woman, and allows the woman to fleece her. The woman needs the coin far more than Iris does. 

She walks to the library. She pauses. "This is exactly the sort of building elves get kidnapped in," she thinks disdainfully. Would Solas save her if she was sold into slavery? She hates herself for daydreaming of a dramatic rescue, and bruising kisses.

After a moment, her desire to save her love overpowers her instinctual self-preservation and she opens the door. 

Inside, the library is small, but tidy. The numerous shelves full of books appear to be categorized by subject matter, based on the Tevene words above the stacks. There is no one else in the library, save for herself and a young human man behind a desk. His hair is a mop of loose black curls that hang over his pale eyes, and his fair skin lacks any blemishes from time in the sun. This is a man who has spent much of his life behind a desk. 

The man stands, and this is when Iris notices the crutches. He walks slowly, with a pronounced limp, and relies heavily on his crutches. She sees no evidence of battle scars, or the wiry musculature common in mages who perform staff work regularly. She can feel the subtle pulsing of mana around him, so he is certainly a mage. Perhaps his condition is congenital? 

Fenedhis, she is staring, and being rude. The man smiles warmly at her, as if used to the stares. 

"Welcome to my library. My name is Tomas." He extends his hand in greeting. Iris shakes it. 

"Well met. I am Rose."

"What knowledge may I assist you in finding today, Rose?" 

"The Fade, and anything you have on the veil." 

Tomas nods. "We have a small section towards the back," he points towards a bookshelf, "though I must warn you that much of the books are in Tevene." His eyes sparkle in amusement. 

Is it that obvious that she is a foreigner? She really must learn how to blend in here in Tevinter. Iris proceeds cautiously. 

"I am here working as an arcane assistant. My patron has requested I research the Fade and the veil. If you have a Tevene-to-Common dictionary, I am sure I will manage until I pick up more of your language." 

"Of course. Sit, and I will bring one over to you, as well as a selection of books you may wish to start with." 

Iris sits. She rubs absentmindedly at the juncture between her arm and her prosthetic. There is an itch she cannot scratch, and it has been lingering since Solas took her arm all those months ago. How can she still itch on a limb that no longer exists? 

Tomas returns, with a book bag draped over his body. He sets his crutches aside, sits down and begins removing the books from the bag, placing them in front of her. 

"I do not know what specifically you are looking for, but these are the best books to start with. We do have a few in the common tongue, but they were written by Southerners and if you will excuse my bluntness, contain absolute nonsense. Your Chantry truly does not allow for proper magical research." 

Iris laughs. "You're not wrong, there."

Tomas clears his throat. "If I may ask, which languages do you read? A working knowledge of other languages may help you pick up Tevene more quickly, or I may be able to search and find something written in another tongue." 

Iris hesitates. She doesn't know this man, and if she reveals she can read a minute amount of Elvhen, he may figure out she is Dalish. And there are few Dalish without vallaslin, putting her disguise at risk. Her knowledge could put her in danger of kidnapping if it’s thought that an elf who can read ancient texts (even without fluency) would be a valuable slave.

Tomas notices her hesitation. "I am a Laetan; the first in my family to ever be born gifted with magic. It's the only advantage I was ever born with." he gestures to his legs bitterly. "I grew up on this lovely street, surrounded by poverty, disease and death. Several of my neighbours were elves and they shared space at my family's table on many occasions, and myself at theirs. I promise you, my family has never owned slaves, and never will." He says the last bit emphatically. 

Before she can second-guess herself, Iris speaks. "I can read a little Orlesian, and some Elvhen, but am far from fluent in either tongue." 

Tomas raises his eyebrow. "Interesting. I've built a small collection of Elvhen books and scrolls. Mostly obtained from smugglers who stole them from ancient ruins, you understand. I can't read a word of them, but you may find them interesting if you can figure out what they say." 

Iris' sudden, sharp laughter fills the room. Tomas is taken aback. She laughs until tears roll down her cheeks. Thedas’ salvation may very well be hidden in the bookshelves contained in this dilapidated old building. She composes herself. 

"That would be lovely, Tomas, and I would be glad to take you up on your generous offer at some point." Tomas reaches for his crutches and starts to stand up. 

"I will leave you to your reading; please let me know if there is anything else I can help you with, Rose." 

Iris looks Tomas in the eyes. "Thank you," she says, hoping he can sense the unspoken gratitude and relief in her words. 

She cracks open the dictionary and one of the books. It's time to figure out how to save her lover, and Thedas.


	6. The Artifact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris makes a promising discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI this chapter contains Tevinter Nights spoilers.

Iris visits the small library nearly every day and, with the help of a Tevene-to-Common dictionary, makes her way through the variety of books Tomas gives to her.   
  
“An odd thing, Rose, to be assigned such a task when you do not understand Tevene fluently. And your presence in Tevinter, period, of course,” Tomas says to her one day. Simply curiosity; not malice, but it concerns her all the same.   
  
“My patron was visiting the south when he saw my talents. Journeying to Tevinter has given me the opportunity to learn and expand my skills considerably.”   
  
Not…entirely a lie. Her and Dorian did meet in the south, and she has learned a great deal with arriving in Tevinter. But her studies are not to aid Dorian; they’re to find a better way of saving Solas’ people. To stop her love from destroying the world and save his life.   
  
That’s…obviously not knowledge she can share with Tomas. As it is, she’s lucky he hasn’t discovered her true identity.   
  
Tomas is kind. In many ways he’s become a friend these last few months. But he is a mystery just as she is. How does he manage to make a living running a dilapidated library in one of the poorest areas of town?   
  
The sound of his crutches against the wooden floors alerts her to his presence. Tomas approaches, a bag draped across his body. “Would you care to break bread with me, Rose?”   
  
Life in Tevinter has made her wary. Despite knowing Tomas for several months, sharing a meal with him is something else entirely. The threat of poisoning runs through her mind, and her ongoing fear that she’s being too trusting surfaces. Once again, she imagines getting kidnapped and sold into slavery.   
  
Tomas puts a series of covered containers on the table, two plates and two sets of cutlery. “If you will excuse my rudeness…” he takes a fork and sticks it into each of the containers, one-by-one, taking and eating a bite from them.   
  
He understands her fears and is not offended, and it means more to her than she ever thought possible. “Thank you. I would be happy to have dinner with you.” She spoons some of the food onto her plate – sausages, pasta, bread and a salad made from vegetables found here in the Imperium. It’s all delicious.   
  
“Did you prepare this? It is fantastic!”   
  
Tomas smiles at her. “I live alone in the apartment upstairs so I am responsible for doing all of my own cooking.”   
  
“I never learned to cook. There were a few times that I tried, but my friends were all very cross when I did because it meant they were served a disappointing meal.”   
  
“You don’t speak much of your friends or family down south.”   
  
“My family is dead.” She cringes inwardly as she realizes that she’s said too much. Comfort has made her complacent.   
  
Tomas looks at her so sadly. “I am sorry for your loss. Was it a long time ago?”   
  
“A few years ago. If you will excuse me, it’s not something I like to discuss.”   
  
“Understood. My mother and father live nearby. Kind people; Father was able to retire recently. Did manual labour his whole life – not easy on his body. But I have the means to support them now. If…you ever wanted, they would be happy to welcome you into their home for dinner,” Tomas says nervously.   
  
And that confirms what she’s wondered recently: Tomas is attracted to her. He’s a nervous and cautious man, and she suspects he was unwilling to openly ask her on a date, so he’s dancing around the matter. It’s very sweet, and a little flattering.   
  
But the fact remains that she is not interested in a relationship. Her own relationship status is so complicated. Are her and Solas lovers once more? Can they be lovers when they don’t see each other, save for the occasional time he enters her dream? It’s not like she can ask him. “Hey, _Vhenan_ , you’re trying to destroy the world and kill everyone I love, but you love me and I love you, so are we exclusive? Or are we on a break?”   
  
Fucking Solas. All she knows is that her heart is his. Forever. Even knowing what he’s trying to do. Because she’s going to find a better way, and she knows his heart is good.   
  
“Tomas, I apologize if I’ve led you on in any way, but…I have a lover. Your friendship is something I value a great deal, however.”   
  
His face falls briefly before he perks up once more. “Understood. The invitation still stands. My parents would be pleased to meet my friend, Rose, from the south. They’ve never had the opportunity to speak with someone from the south.”   
  
“I would be glad to join you one day.”   
  
“May I ask about your lover? You’ve never mentioned – him? Her? Them?”   
  
Insisting on keeping Solas a secret would only be suspicious. “Him. You may ask.”   
  
“Is he here in Tevinter?”   
  
She shakes her head. “I’m…unsure where he is. We’ve been separated for a time; our goals and dreams have kept us apart but we keep in touch in our own way.” Not a lie; seeing him in her dreams once in awhile is keeping in touch. Sort of.   
  
“It must be difficult to be apart.”   
  
“You have no idea,” she says dryly, a joke only she would get.   
  
“May I ask you a question, Tomas?”   
  
“Go ahead.”   
  
Questions about money are always delicate and she fears she’s being rude. But she needs to know how he makes enough money to support both himself and his parents. “Forgive me if this is indelicate, but how does one make money running a library? Does the Magisterium pay you a wage?”   
  
They finished eating long ago, and Iris is fiddling with her fork; her left arm hanging by her side. Tomas has figured out that her left arm has been wounded somehow, but does not know she has a prosthesis. Dagna’s prosthetic looks real enough to pass for an actual arm…assuming she wears gloves. Which she does whenever she’s outside Dorian’s house.   
  
“You are a smart woman, Rose. Very observant.” Indeed; Leliana would be proud of her. “The Magisterium pays me a small stipend, but not enough to live on. Luckily, I’ve found ways to make a living on my own using knowledge I gained through a lifetime of reading. Had to do something as a boy when I couldn’t play with the other children,” he says, gesturing at his legs. She’s never asked him about his condition but it’s the one thing the mild-mannered man across from her is bitter about.   
  
“Oh? How so?”   
  
“It is easier if I show you.” Tomas reaches for his crutches and stands up. “I trust you will keep this information discreet?”   
  
“Of course I will.” She says this, knowing that if whatever he shows her is a threat or boon to her goals, she will tell Dorian, Charter and the rest of the team. As much as she likes Tomas... the fate of Thedas must take priority.   
  
They walk to a back corner of the library. A benign looking area covered with a Tevene rug. “Would you lift the rug and carry it over there?” He gestures with his head, and wordlessly she moves the rug, revealing a trapdoor.   
  
“Shall I lift the door?”   
  
“Not necessary.” Tomas casts a spell; something she doesn’t recognize, and the door lifts of its own accord, revealing a staircase.   
  
Remarkable; this trapdoor was designed to unlock just as an eluvian does! Tomas makes his way down the staircase slowly, and Iris follows behind him. Once underground, he repeats the spell and the door closes once more.   
  
“There are plenty of rare artifacts in this world. Some are valuable only for the purposes of nostalgia. Others have the potential to be very powerful. Years ago, I made connections within the Lords of Fortune – the treasure hunters. Do you know of them?”   
  
Know of them? She’s working with one of them! But…she can’t reveal that. “I’ve heard of them,” she says simply.   
  
“I purchase artifacts they’ve discovered, restore them and re-sell them. Make a tidy profit most of the time; I know what sells and what people are interested in. It’s allowed me to run the library and support my parents. Not a…strictly legal endeavor. Artifacts found in Tevinter are supposed to be given to the Magisterium for ‘preservation’. Code for ‘divvied up among the most corrupt of the Magisters’.”  
  
“Very clever,” she murmurs. And dangerous. Does Solas know of Tomas? Were he to find out Tomas is in the market of selling ancient and potentially powerful magical items on the black market there’s a decent chance he’d pay him a visit. A very unpleasant sort of visit.   
  
Tomas takes her past a variety of pieces – scrolls from ancient Tevinter, Dwarven statues, jeweled pendants. And then, at the end of the hallway, protected in a glass display case, is something that takes her breath away.   
  
An orb. Similar to the one that belonged to Solas. She walks, just a little too quickly, over to it. Tomas follows.   
  
“Somnaborum. Or, “Vessel of Dreams,” Tomas tells her.   
  
She knows what it is. More intimately than almost anyone alive, save for Solas. But to reveal that would be to reveal that she was the Inquisitor. A dangerous thing – in many ways. It’s unclear if Solas knows where she is or what she’s been up to, aside from generalities – that she’s still working with Charter and a small team of people dedicated to disrupting his plans.   
  
Revealing her identity puts that all at risk. “What is it used for?” More a test of his knowledge than anything.   
  
“As a means of focusing and containing magical energy. There are few still remaining. From what I’ve heard, one of them was responsible for opening the breach down south.”   
  
“Is it still active?” It lies dormant right now, but it may be possible to unlock it.   
  
“Unclear. Nobody I’ve consulted within the Lords of Fortune know how to open it. Opening it would be very dangerous in the hands of someone who does not know what they are doing.”   
  
“What…would you sell an artifact like this for?”   
  
Tomas looks amused. “Why? Looking to start collecting antiquities?”   
  
“My patron might be interested,” she shrugs, trying to look far more disinterested than she actually is.   
  
“It would be sold without the guarantee that it actually works, you must understand. But the rarity and potential for a piece such as this makes it very valuable. 100,000 gold pieces, though, if your patron is of a decent sort, I would be willing to go down to 90,000.”   
  
“A decent sort?”   
  
“Not one of those magisters keen on bleeding their slaves and poisoning the cups of their rivals. Someone who wouldn’t be using it solely to enhance their own power.”   
  
Right. Of course. Tomas is a good person, dedicated to the responsible use of knowledge and magic.   
  
Her and Dorian and the rest of the team would potentially use it to save the world. Or, at the very least, to keep Solas from getting his hands on it.   
  
“I will speak with my patron about it, with your permission.”   
  
Tomas looks pleased. “I am glad to hear it. With such a large sum of money, I could renovate the library and fix up my parents’ house.”   
  
On her way back to Dorian’s house she stops in at the apothecary and purchases the herbs to prevent her from entering the Fade as she sleeps. Just in case she dreams of the orb and Solas decides to come visiting.   
  
She speaks to Dorian alone. He’s…not as keen about it as she is. “You don’t even know if it works, my girl! The amount of money to spend on speculation…it’s foolish.”   
  
“Dorian, what if Solas finds it? You know he’ll be able to determine in seconds if it still works. That sum of money is worth paying just to keep it from him, alone!”   
  
“Or get him on our doorstep when he discovers we have a damned orb. I would rather not become a statue if it’s all the same to you.”   
  
Iris takes a sip of the wine Dorian poured her earlier. “He won’t find out. You and I will take the herbs to keep us from the Fade until we’ve figured out what we’re to do with it. Whether it’s possible to use it safely.”   
  
“That’s the other thing! You lost your arm dealing with the last one. Rather thought you were attached to the remaining one.”   
  
“We’re not going to unlock it – not right away. Charter must know someone who can examine the orb and figure out if we can unlock it without causing chaos or harm.”   
  
“Fine, we can keep it safe. You do know how much 90,000 gold is, yes? I know you grew up in the woods, but even you can’t be ignorant of just how significant a sum of money that is. That’s more than this house costs.”   
  
“I know, Dorian. Assuming we can get Charter to agree and chip in for part of it using whatever funds are remaining from back when the Inquisition was still active, I’m willing to cover half the cost.”   
  
Dorian looks at her in shock. “Half?!”   
  
“I was paid well and it isn’t as if I need the money for much. My tastes aren’t fancy.”   
  
“I really need to be charging you more rent. Or insisting you buy the wine,” Dorian mutters.   
  
***  
  
Charter arrives two weeks later and they meet in a basement tavern. Iris tells her about the orb.   
  
She looks dubious. “He’s using the red lyrium idol for whatever ritual he’s performing. I doubt the orb would be of much use to him.”   
  
Charter had revealed what she discovered in her meeting in Nevarra several months ago. Stoically, as if meeting the Dread Wolf in person inadvertently hadn’t shaken her. Almost certainly a front. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry,” Charter had told her. “His voice cracked.”   
  
Iris remained just as stoic but as soon as Charter left, she retreated to her bedroom, warded the door and wept.   
  
“The orb would be better than the idol, in theory. He hates the blight! Told me once that anyone who tries to use the blight is a fool. That speaks to how desperate he is!”   
  
She’s so worried about him. What’s he doing to himself? Is he corrupting himself in pursuit of his goals? A recent re-read of _Tale of the Champion_ , in which Meredith and Varric’s brother corrupted themselves with the idol only served to make her more worried about her lover.   
  
“Fine, we buy it to keep it away from him. It could be years before our researchers determine how to unlock and use it safely, if we even could. Time we don’t have.”   
  
“Half, Charter. 45,000 gold pieces. I’ll pay for the other half, Dorian will act as the purchaser and it will be safe and away from Solas. And what about the Qunari? What if they found out about it and got their hands on it?”   
  
“That is a good point,” Dorian says and she knows she’s won.   
  
“Dorian’s the purchaser; I’ll ensure the funds are transferred to him, from the Inquisition’s account and from yours. This stays between you two, your team and I.”   
  
Dorian looks the part as he walks with her to the library; his clothes are expensive silk, shoes perfectly polished, and his mustache freshly groomed. He takes Tomas’ hand gregariously as she introduces them.   
  
“My dear Rose has told me so much about you. Says you’re very helpful. A pleasure to meet you, Tomas!”   
  
Tomas recognizes Dorian. “Member of the Lucerni, then? Your group has promising ideas.”   
  
“Always a pleasure to receive support. Such a rarity, you know.”   
  
“We are here to conduct business? Rose has told you my price and you are comfortable paying it? I did tell her that there are no guarantees it will ever function.”   
  
Dorian scoffs. “Not a concern, I’m interested in the history of such a fine artifact!” A complete and utter lie, but he sells it well.   
  
Tomas leads them underground. Dorian looks curiously at the other artifacts in the hallway, but none impress him as he quickly looks ahead. None of them speak; Tomas, while approving of Dorian on the surface, must not trust him enough to be any more open about how he makes his living than he already has been. 

The display case is unlocked and Tomas places the orb in the container her and Dorian brought with them. 

“It goes without saying that you did not buy this here,” Tomas says. 

“Oh no, funny bit of luck, Rose and I found a fascinating orb in a ruin we were exploring. Buried under some rubble. Could hardly believe it!” Dorian says with a wink as he hands Tomas the case containing the money. “Your reward. For telling us about about the ruin.” 

“Very generous, Magister Pavus,” Tomas says as he opens the case and quickly counts the money. “Pleasure working with you. Talk to me if you’re ever in the market for... other ruins to explore.” 

Her and Dorian leave the library and he hands Iris the case. “You carry this thing because I’m not getting my arm magicked off,” he says as they walk home briskly. 

It’s a risk, but the orb is more than they had in their fight to change Solas’ heart before today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I fully accept that as soon as DA4 comes out, this piece will become an AU, it does allow me to run with my theory that came about as a result of Tevinter Nights: the next protagonist will be a Lord of Fortune (when it’s mentioned that Iris works with one of them, she’s referring to the person who is, theoretically, the next protagonist).


End file.
